


Rupert Grint and the Tears of Osiris

by Remyxed



Series: Rupert Grint and the Tears of Osiris [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-16 01:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remyxed/pseuds/Remyxed
Summary: Daniel Radcliffe loved remembering his time on the set of Harry Potter. One day, while walking through the park, he picked up a fallen branch nearby and swung it with an "Expelliarmus!" A streak of light streamed from the branch and knocked a walker's phone out of their hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello there! I wrote a response on a Reddit subreddit called /r/WritingPrompts and it became a top story - now I plan on finishing it. The summary is the original prompt and the first chapter was my initial take. You can find daily updates to this at https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/ and hopefully here! Thank you for reading and please do not hesitate to leave me feedback, as I'm new to this and looking to improve.

"Are you sure?" Emma's normally elegant voice warbled through the cheap device.

"I'm calling you _from the phone that I disarmed!_ Hey, hold on! Okay, okay. Emma, I need to give the nice man his phone back. But I'll call you as soon as I get to my apartment."

Daniel wasn't sure how to feel. Elated? Incredulous? He pinched himself as he jogged through the concrete jungle. The dim New York street lights felt colder than normal as they rushed past. Shadows seemed spookier in the mid-October mood, elongating away from apartment lights that revealed rotting pumpkins and dusty cobwebs.

"Lucky no one was around," he muttered to himself. He'd extracted a promise of secrecy from the stranger in exchange for a photo and a coffee chat with Emma before rushing home. Of all the days to not bring his phone on a run through Bryant Park!

He unlocked the door, pulse pumping like pistons. Daniel felt a quiet sense of familiarity sooth fraying nerves as the hinges creaked shut.

"I'm sorry, 'Harry'."

He whirled around, hand instinctively reaching for the umbrella by the doorway. An old man with a long white beard stepped into the dim light and pointed a wand at him.

"Nice cosplay," Daniel said. "How...how did you get into my apartment? Look, I get 'visitors' like you all the time, and you can't just-"

"There simply can't be any witnesses. You're technically not a registered wizard."

Daniel opened his mouth to protest, racking his brain on the off chance that this man was-

"_Obliviate._"

* * *

Emma hung up her cell. Although her film alter ego was a prodigy amongst prodigies, the brain behind the beauty that played her was no cheap copy. She brushed a single lock of hair behind her ear as her mind spun into overdrive.

Possibilities. Probabilities. Impossible machinations threaded between lines so thin it took her a full minute to read between them.

“It’s not consistent with the laws of physics. Although, they do say that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

She rose from her bed where she’d been rudely awakened by Daniel’s call. He’d sounded…happy. Excited, even. But she knew better. Clearing her throat, she looked at floor where moonbeams formed pale white rectangles on the rug.

“Of course, the likelihood that such a discovery would be made by Daniel of all people is simply too low. There are no such things as true coincidences, only patterns woven by fate that only those who pay attention can detect."

She yawned, walking over to the pitcher of water she always kept on the kitchen counter. The tiles felt nice and cool beneath her feet. Emma always kept her apartment chilly when she slept to ensure quality rest.

"The natural conclusion? There must be a group dedicated to keeping such a discovery under wraps. Otherwise, it would spread through the internet like a spark in dry heat during August. Occam's razor indicates that the simplest explanation here may be correct."

Emma poured herself a glass of water and downed it in three rapid gulps. Allowing herself a soft _ah_ of contentment, she looked out the window once more, admiring the roundness of the full moon.

"When you Obliviate me, Professor McGonagall, please make sure I don't hit my head."

An old woman pulled off her invisibility cloak behind Emma's back. Her expression was inscrutable, but the lines of her face tightened visibly.

"You are a terrifying creature, Ms. Watson. _Obliviate._"

* * *

Rupert Grint woke up with a start. He checked his watch and let out a heavy sigh, pushing back the covers that failed to block out the encroaching cold. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"I sure miss Emma and Dan," he said. The redhead pulled the covers over his face and promptly began snoring.

A few minutes passed.

"You sure he can't hear us?" Tonks asked underneath her cloak.

Kingsley Shacklebolt shot her a withering glare as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. If anyone in the department were to hear about his close proximity with the metamorphmagus, he wouldn't hear the end of it for weeks.

"Are you questioning the strength of my Muffliato?"

"Don't get your panties all in a bunch," Tonks grumbled. "Are we done here? There's definitely no need to Obliviate him. He clearly didn't have contact with the others, and look at the doofus - fast asleep already."

Kingsley hesitated, but the air was getting too hot and the perspiration sticking his shirt to his chest was distracting. Blasted department budgets.

"We're good here. Let's report back."

Rupert Grint heard two quiet pops. He stayed still, fake snoring until his throat became dry as sandpaper and hints of blue and purple peaked up from the dark sky.

He was never as smart as Emma or well-liked as Daniel. When Emma made him practice chess to better embody Ron Weasley, he'd reluctantly played along. Now he regretted not exercising his strategic thinking more.

When he was finally ready to test the waters, he yawned and rubbed the black circles forming underneath his eyes. On his way to the toilet, he snagged one of the fake wands he kept on his bookshelf, a memento from an enthusiastic fan. Closing his bathroom door, he turned the soft wood over in his palm. Emma had woken him up with a text that seemed innocent enough. Luckily, he'd seen it on his watch first.

**Did you know that dolphins are actually incredibly intelligent?**

That was the code-phrase she'd set up when they were teenagers for the specific situation where the magical society was real and out to get them. He and Daniel had teased her, until she'd gone on to give them over forty other encoded messages for possible emergency scenarios, covering everything from aliens to time travelers. They'd laughed and called her paranoid.

Rupert wasn't laughing now. What to do? Phone and internet were no good - if the roles were flipped, he'd bug all his devices for sure. He'd have to take a risk. Mustering up all his focus, the ginger gripped the wand just a bit tighter and focused on memories of his two friends.

"Why didn't I pay closer attention to the wand instructions during rehearsal?" he muttered.

"_Expecto Patronum_."


	2. Chapter 2

Tom Felton was having a crazy morning. His manuscript for a new TV series had just been approved by the CW network, and he could hardly wait to tell Emma. Between their beach hangouts and guitar sessions, it was enough to drive fans rabid with speculation. _Dramione_. He laughed to himself.

Cracking open a celebratory beer, he toasted the dawn painting its wings across the horizon. The first sip tasted lonely. The second got better as he tried to figure out a way to convince Daniel and Rupert to sign onto the idea of all four of them starring in his show.

A silver dog exploded into existence. Glowing light pulsed off its fur in waves of ethereal mist as it swirled around him with silent yips. Tom spit out his third gulp of beer in a spray that Old Faithful would’ve commended him for.

“Gah! Wha-“

The ghost-like terrier dashed back and forth excitedly before freezing in place. Tom almost missed his chair as he sank down weakly, pulling out his phone. Was that what he thought it was?

He was about to snap a photo when the dog’s mouth opened and Rupert’s voice spoke with eerie clarity.

“Testing, testing.”

He blinked. He and the thing that could only be a patronus stared at each other in silence.

“Um,” he said, almost missing the desk as he set down his can. “Is this a prank?” He looked around for the hidden cameras. “Ha ha everyone, very funny. You got me. Pretty realistic patr-”

“Hello? Hello? Testing, testing.” The sound coming from the dog’s mouth sounded nervous, frantic even.

“I can hear you,” Tom said. “Bloody…how does this thing even work?” Weren’t patronuses one way recorded messages?

“Tom, it’s me, Rupert.”

“Very funny prank,” he said.

“This is not a prank. Whatever you do, don’t post this on Instagram. I swear on…on Daniel’s left nut, this is real. Don’t call the cops. Don’t call anyone, actually, even me. I need to…bloody hell, how am I supposed to get to California? Why did you move to California?”

“Is that really important right now?” Tom shouted. “What’s going on?”

“Anyways, let me try to figure something out. Oh yeah, magic is real! It’s so wicked!”

“_Lead with that!”_

“But it’s all screwed up. Remember Emma’s ‘security measures’? She sent me a text saying something about dolphins.”

Tom frowned. Wasn’t that the one where aliens had infiltrated the government?

“I think that’s the one where the magical government is real and obliviating all of us. They’re probably checking our social media and phones, or else Emma wouldn’t have sent it in code.”

_Oh,_ he thought weakly. _Now what?_

“Hang on, I’ll find a way to get to you. Grab a fake wand or something, try it out! I think the words are actually the same as in the books, isn’t that cool?”

Tom was tempted to jab a pen through the dog in frustration. “How is any of this happening right now? This has _got_ to be a prank.”

“I sent patronuses to Daniel and Emma too, but they came back immediately. They’re probably asleep, or worse, dead. You’re my only hope, man!”

The silver dog abruptly bounded into motion, spinning around him several times before leaping through the wall of his house. He sat there, doing his best impression of a newly drying statue.

Tom Felton was having a crazy morning.

He sent his chair flying back as he hurtled through the living room, past the kitchen and into the storage closet. There had to be a wand somewhere! Plastic screeched and scraped as he ripped open old cardboard boxes and upended the contents. There!

Gripping one of the many wands he’d used on set, Tom sent a mute prayer to whatever deity might be listening that there weren’t any hidden cameras, or else he was about to look incredibly foolish.

“_Lumos."_

A brilliant nova seared his retinas. He yelped in pain, sending the wand clattering against the floor. Rubbing the blinking spots away, he staggered into the wall and let out a low moan of frustration. It was _way_ too early for this. Wasn't that too strong for a Lumos spell? Wait, forget that, he just _cast a Lumos spell._

When his vision finally cleared, he examined the wand. Definitely a fake wand. There were no cameramen hidden away behind his hallway bathroom door, no secret projectors spinning up the holographic image of Ron Weasley's patronus.

Emma. Daniel. They were in trouble. Tom's quavering hands picked up the black wand, almost dropping the wood slicked with sweat. He had to get to Rupert. Pointing at a fake Remembrall that a fan once gifted him, he scrunched his face in concentration.

"_Portus."_


	3. Chapter 3

Rupert's wand clattered to the ground as a retching Tom Felton appeared impossibly from a spiral in space.

"Tom! Did you get my patronus?"

"No," Tom said, exasperation leaking from his ears. He propped himself up with both hands over the trash can, staring bleakly at the gurgling lava lamp on the nightstand. "I've just been falling through the sky for the last ten minutes to check in on you because I felt like it."

"Smart arse." Rupert pulled his co-star in for a hug. "It's been forever, mate."

Tom frowned, looking over Rupert's shoulder at the pictures on the mantle illuminated by the early afternoon glare. The four of them looked so young and carefree. He knew better.

Pictures never showed the grueling hours of sweaty rehearsal, the arguments won and lost so many times that no one really cared anymore. It was a camraderie that withstood the trials of time, bent but not broken.

"Didn't I text you last week?"

Rupert's grin spread across his face as he picked up his wand, striking an exaggerated dueling pose. "Yeah, so like forever."

"Alright, what's going on?" Tom put the Remembrall down on one of the dining table's wood coasters with a dull _thunk_. "Any luck reaching Emma and Daniel?"

"No," Rupert said, expression cloudy. "I've been..."

The dark blond head of hair followed the direction of the ginger's gaze. Tom groaned as he walked over to the unmade bed and picked up the book.

"_Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._ Really?"

"Look, mate," Rupert grumbled, "Just because you have a good memory doesn't mean-"

"We're actors!" Tom gripped the pages and ran a thumb over the iconic lightning bolt scar on the cover, trying to calm the fraying edges of his sanity. "Anyways, forget it, it's a good idea. Maybe we'll remember some weird spells that will come in handy. Oh yeah...and _magic_ is _real_! Why aren't you freaking out more about this!?"

"Because I'm trying to channel my inner Ron Weasley!"

"Ron Weasley would say something like 'bloody gits' and complain about the pronunciation of Wingardium Leviosa." Tom walked around the plush sofa in circles, spinning his wand. "Channel your inner Hermione instead. What would Emma want us to do right now?"

"I've been asking myself that for the last hour," Rupert admitted.

A chime filled the air. Tom ducked behind the kitchen table, wand pointed ramrod straight at the front door. What spell? Avada Kedavra? _No, no,_ he berated himself. _Even if it is the magical society, that curse is too dangerous._ He watched, aghast, as his friend walked forward confidently.

"Rupert, no!"

Rupert opened the door and Tom's hand twitched. _Reducto? Stupefy? What was the difference again?_

"Thanks. Have a good one!" Pulling the door shut, Rupert waved a big bag in the air. "Postmates!"

Tom slowly rose from his carefully calculated position on the ground, coughing into his sleeve. "Postmates. You ordered delivery. Are you insane?"

"What, you're just going to skip meals? Do you think Hermione...excuse me, _Emma,_ would want us to rush into a situation without thinking it through?"

The burgers were delicious. The buns were just a tad bit soggy, but Tom had to admit that the juicy meat was a welcome comfort after the constant rush of adrenaline this morning.

"Imagine all the possibilities," Rupert ruminated. "No more laundry. No more making the bed. No more cooking!"

"That's what you're thinking of?" Tom asked through a mouthful of greasy fries. "Not, you know, turning lead into gold or making ourselves immortal. Not solving world hunger or ending conflict in the Middle East."

"There's time for those things too. Bloody hell, do you think time-turners exist?"

The smell of oil permeated the apartment as they hastily cleaned up and approached the Remembrall. "Emma's place, or Dan's?" Tom gripped his wand tight. "Or should we practice magic here first?"

"I thought about that," Rupert said. He glanced out enviously at the unfurling clouds that drifted lazily over the quiet English town. "We have no idea how the...the Ministry detects magic usage. I thought a patronus would be okay - that's how Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix sent messages to each other during the war, right?"

"You're talking like they were real people," Tom said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Isn't the patronus also how Harry got in trouble with the ministry in book four?"

"I think that was book five. Bugger, this is going to be hard," he said with a laugh. "Okay, Emma's first. She knew the books inside out."

"_Portus._"

One moment, the two of them were touching the red plastic sphere on the count of three. The next, they were trying to hold their in burgers on the floor of Emma's apartment.

"Next time," Tom wheezed, "No postmates before portkeying."

Rupert clutched his stomach. If his face looked like how he felt, it would be a brilliant shade of Slytherin green. He chose not to respond, giving a curt nod before examining the weave of Emma's modern-style furniture.

"Emma?" Tom called out. "It's me and Rupert. Are you there? Don't freak out, we're not stalkers or anything."

Rupert and Tom stopped moving as the cold barrels of two Glocks pressed up against the back of their skulls.

"Don't move a muscle." Emma's voice was somehow calm and harsh at the same time, like the eye of a storm surrounded by gale-force winds. "Don't turn around. Drop the wands. Any sudden movement and I shoot, and I promise you that bullets can travel faster than words. Drop them!"

They dropped the wands.

"Bloody hell," Rupert managed to blurt out. "Emma, it's us! Where did you even come from?"

"Disillusionment charm," Tom guessed. "It's not Emma, is it?"

"Reverse psychology won't work here," Emma said. "Whoever you are, I'll need time to verify your identities."

Rupert exchanged a confused look with Tom. "Would you please drop the guns? There's no time for this, Emma!"

"_Stupefy._"


	4. Chapter 4

“_Aguamenti._”

Rupert’s indignant yelp sent water shooting up his nose. The burning sensation ignited a hazy wakefulness as the world swam into view. _Bloody hell_. His arms and legs strained against the coarse ropes that bound him to the hard chair.

“_Aguamenti._”

And now Tom was sputtering awake, moaning quietly. Emma sat in front of them, a few spots of sun seeping past the blinds and falling on her golden-brown locks. The entire apartment was dim. Not only had the windows all been boarded up, but the door had also been barricaded with the couch. The minimalist furniture took up defensive positions on their sides, making room for the three of them in the center of the living room. It looked like a poltergeist had politely volunteered for home redecorating.

“I give the orders. You cooperate.”

Rupert groaned. “Emma, is this really necessary? Come _on_, it’s us.”

Emma pointed a single finger at him. “_Aguamenti._”

“_Bloody hell!_ Would you stop that?”

Emma slowly rose to her feet, and only then did they notice the Glock in her hand. “There are three main ways of impersonating someone else in Harry Potter canon. The first is Polyjuice Potion, but that only lasts up to twelve hours. It’s been thirteen.”

“God, Emma,” Tom said. “Are you serious right now? You saw us drop in – ministry aurors wouldn’t be so clumsy!”

“The second is being a metamorphmagus. I don’t have access to Veritaserum, so you’ll have to make an unbreakable vow to convince me.”

Tom glanced at Rupert. Rupert rolled his eyes.

“How can we trust you?” he blurted out. “How do we know that _you’re_ not a ministry official trying to trick _us_? And how are you casting wandlessly? That's wicked.”

“Careful,” Tom said as Emma inched closer. “You have to be specific with the wording.”

“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” she warned. “I’m going to undo only one of your restraints. Any sudden moves and I shoot. Rupert, reach over and touch our linked hands. Slowly, now. _Diffindo. Diffindo._”

The ropes fell limply, and he groaned in relief as blood rushed back into his left hand. Surely there was a faster way to convince Emma? Tom seemed resigned to humoring her, gripping her hand cautiously.

“Do you, Tom Felton, agree to tell me the truth, and only the truth, for the next hour?”

Tom hesitated. “I will.”

Flame streamed from their clasped hands, coiling into thin lines that bound their wrists together.

“And will you, to the best of your ability, warn me of any person or entity that attempts to cause us harm, including but not limited to physical or mental damage?”

“I will.”

“And should it prove necessary, will you act in the most effective way to signal to me if you are unable to comply verbally?”

“I will.”

“_Incarcerous. Wingardium Leviosa. Diffindo. Diffindo._”

Emma rebound them and swapped their positions before repeating the process with Rupert, maintaining eye contact the whole while. He stared into those deep brown pools and dutifully repeated _I will_, wondering if those strong orbs were as merciless as they seemed.

When the vows were finally complete, Emma seemed to relax marginally. She slid her Glock back into the holster and sat back down, releasing their bonds with a brief _‘Finite’_.

“Are either of you part of a group looking to wipe our memories or otherwise hide the magical world?”

“No,” they chorused.

“Do either of you mean me harm, including but not limited to physical or mental damage?”

“No!”

“Bugger off, Emma,” Rupert said. “No. Isn’t this enough?”

She was watching them carefully, and Rupert caught a glimpse of just how far ahead she’d planned. It was scary. She set up the situation to watch for their reactions; why else would she explain all of this to them? It was to get them talking, in hopes that they’d slip up.

“The third way is indirect, via the Imperius,” Emma said.

Tom opened his mouth in a small ‘o’ shape that betrayed the confusion that Rupert felt. “Shouldn’t the unbreakable vow cover that?”

She shook her head as she approached them. “No. The unbreakable vow can only interpret what you yourself believe to be true. That means you can be Obliviated or False Memory charmed, and then Imperiused.”

“How would any of us know what’s real, then?” Tom argued.

“I need to be sure,” Emma insisted, and for a moment the mask slipped. Rupert caught a glimpse of the ferocity underneath, hungry to guarantee the safety of her friends and desperate to protect them at all costs. It was the roar of a mother lion, the determination of a true Gryffindor.

“How are you going to make sure?” Rupert asked.

“There’s only one known way to break the _Obliviate_ charm that doesn’t involve torture. Coincidentally, it’s also a way to shake False Memory charms, and tests for the Imperius as well.”

“I don’t remember this from the books,” Tom admitted. Emma turned to Rupert and braced herself, pointing at him with a single finger like a magnanimous goddess.

“_Legilimens._”


	5. Chapter 5

“Where are we?”

Rupert crossed his arms and scratched at fresh stubble. “I don’t know. What’s supposed to happen when you use legilimancy on someone?”

Glancing around the empty white void, Emma fidgeted with the sleeves of her red cardigan and tried to avoid Rupert’s gaze. “To be honest, I’ve never done it before.”

“Oy!” He threw up his arms, eyes as wide as dinner plates. “What was the hurry!? At least try it on Tom first!”

“Well clearly _your_ head’s got nothing in it, so what’s the big deal?”

Rupert stared. Emma glared. He snorted and gave a slight shrug, earning a smile out of her as they exchanged an astral embrace.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “You been alright?”

“Oh, sod off,” he laughed. “You almost killed us!”

Her mischievous brown eyes had the decency to let a sliver of remorse slip through. “I had to be sure. Still do. Besides, legilimancy is the only way we can unlock any other memories they might’ve hidden away.”

The ginger shook his head. “How did you figure out that magic is real? Or that some group was after us?”

Emma twisted around, trying to get her bearings. The white void was endless, and while they could vaguely swim through it, there didn’t seem to be anything to swim to. “I don’t know. I suspect that I was Obliviated.”

Rupert’s face twisted into the expression of a blind man tasked with solving a rubix cube. “Uh…”

She slowly pushed her way in one direction, hoping to find something that resembled anything. “When I woke up this morning, a secret program I created myself indicated that I sent the dolphin text message to you. I couldn’t find that on my phone and I had no memory of it. That’s when I tried a basic Accio spell and my coffee mug flew into my face.”

He winced. “You planned for everything.”

“Oh, I have far more involved contingency plans. Just not for a surprise mug full of coffee, apparently.”

He slowly swam after her, arching his neck to peer up and down. Was his mind really just this empty whiteness? He hadn’t been terrible in school, but it was true that his career aspirations outside of the Harry Potter films had mostly involved being an ice cream truck man. Maybe this was the endless vanilla soft serve of his dreams.

“This is barmy. How do we even know if I’ve ever been Obliviated or False Memory charmed?” The next thing he knew, they almost crashed into a massive sphere of churning lights and flashing colors that easily doubled their height in size. Emma floated around it in fascination, mumbling to herself and blinking repeatedly.

“Well,” she said. “What happens if we touch it?”

Rupert clawed through space until the swirling sphere was right in front of him. “I can’t touch it.”

“What? Why? How do you know that?”

“It’s like there’s this invisible shell all around it.” He squashed his cheek against the surface and it flattened as if pressing up against glass.

Emma frowned. “I’ll try. Perhaps it’s because I’m casting the spell.”

Her hand inched tentatively towards the writhing ball of energy. There was a barrier. It felt like an oiled glass ball, or a well-greased cheese wheel from her favorite restaurant in little Italy.

Great. Now she was hungry, and Rupert’s gurgling stomach was doing that line of thought no favors. She placed a palm on the surface of the sphere and splayed out her fingers.

“Was there a spell for this that I forgot about?” Rupert asked.

“No,” Emma said. “But think back to…yes, to the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore in the Ministry Atrium. There’s plenty of examples of times when powerful wizards and witches didn’t cast a spell verbally. They used _intent_ to guide their magic. If that’s the case, I ought to be able to do this, at least…_Evanesco._”

She felt the barrier shatter and scatter to nothingness against the force of her vanishing charm.

Something was wrong. _Magic_. An ocean of power swelled in front of her. The spectrum orb exploded and expanded to fill the white void. She was a dust mote in the wind, careening and spinning down myriad corridors of thoughts and sensations. Too much! She cut the flow of power in a panic as the world crashed down around her.

“Breathe, Emma! Calm down!”

Tom. Tom was here. She was back in the room. _Memories_. Emma clutched her head as they flitted across the surface of her mind like dragonflies dancing across a pristine lake.

_The White Queen advanced on him. He was scared, so scared. Clutching the hard marble of the black knight piece he rode, he tried to be stro-_

_Wind whipped past his face. He’d done it! Sure, he only had to steal his parent’s magical car to get his best mate out, but it’d been worth it. The puttering engine propelled them across the night sky. What could possibly go wro-_

_Spiders. Why did it have to be spiders? Why couldn’t they follow a trail of butterflies instead? The dark forest loomed up ahead, but he buckled down and followed Harry. Hermione needed them. _

_Draco Malfoy was a bouncing ferret. Best. Year. Ever._

_“Weasley is our King! Weasley is our King!” _

_We just broke into Gringotts. Gringotts!_

_They’d won. It was all over. Voldemorte was dead at last, but so what? Fred was gone. Gone. Gone!_

“Emma! _Aguamenti!_”

She reared her head and gasped for air, sucking it in like a drowning woman. The buzz of foreign sensations hurtled through her brain like Olympic sprinters – no, not Olympic level, more like metahuman level, like the Flash himself had multiplied and wore the face of…Ron Weasley.

“I suppose I deserve that,” she said distractedly as Tom wiped her down carefully. She tried blowing away a wet tangle of hair off her face with little success.

“Are you okay? Rupert seems out cold. Did you…”

“He’s fine, I think,” she said. “We have bigger problems.”

“Um, yes, we do,” Tom said. She finally registered the distress in his tone. “Daniel’s gone missing.”

Emma lunged for her computer without a second thought. She pulled up the relevant articles and read so fast her eyes scanned vertically down the text. “They took him.”

“Some jogger followed him home, but never saw him emerge,” Tom said. “The news got involved and it all started trending everywhere. Do you think…?”

She knew exactly what to think. “We’re next. We have no time.”

“Where can we go? We can Portkey anywhere.” Tom readied his fake wand and fake Remembrall, pulling a limp Rupert over his shoulders.

Emma massaged her temples. She closed her eyes and shoved down the insane bundle of memories underneath layers and layers of planning. Assuming the worst, who would come after them? What techniques would they try?

Tom flinched as Emma’s eyes snapped open. A single glowing white ring had appeared around her pupils. She looked almost otherworldly, and Tom could’ve sworn that he could taste it in the air – the scent of ozone, the hint of static.

“Hundreds of paths forward,” she muttered. “Only three yield the highest probability of survival.” Her arms flew up by her side, pointing to opposite ceiling corners.

“_Fidelius._”


	6. Chapter 6

Alastor Moody was having an unfortunate morning. His wooden peg leg ached in the dry air of the Ministry halls. The electric-blue eye jittered in its socket, scanning the nervous expressions of officials and Unspeakables alike. _Blasted government suits._ They skittered around him like water spiders afraid that the lake’s surface tension might collapse out from under them.

“One day,” he spat, barging into the Ministry Situation room. An intern scrambled to get out of his way, nearly spilling armfuls of parchment and feather quills. “I was on vacation for _one day_! How could you let things get so out of control?”

Albus allowed himself a brief chuckle as his poor intern grappled with the impossible choices between eavesdropping on sensitive information or trying to move past an enraged Mad-Eye Moody. He was confident that she’d work something out.

“How was your long weekend, Alastor?”

“Don’t try to change the subject! You had one job,” Moody snarled, slamming the door shut.

The mirth dropped from Albus’ wrinkled face. “I had no choice. I had to bring him in. The seal was cracking.”

“You should’ve kept closer surveillance on him! If he regains his memories, all will be lost!”

“Do _not_ presume to lecture me on the obvious,” Albus warned, adjusting half-moon spectacles. He never wore them before the films, but he’d grown rather fond of them as of late. They worked well with his favorite star-covered wizard hat. “You know my exact opinion on the matter. And I had very little time. How was I to know that Daniel had such a…_rabid_ fan base?”

The intern had resorting to casting a Muffliato charm on herself and turning to face the corner to avoid reading their lips. Albus applauded her quick decision making – perhaps he’d hire her back for next year.

“Well, your idealism has once again jeopardized everything. Even in ‘retirement’!” Moody slammed a newspaper down on the mahogany desk. “‘Daniel’s Disappearance’. ‘Radcliffe Runaway?’ Social media is even worse. How are we going to explain this?”

Albus was about to drop some Dumbledore wisdom on how it would all work out in the end when his senses, finely tuned to the magic of the world, shifted in a rather demoralizing direction. He took off his spectacles wearily and wiped them meticulously with rainbow-colored robes.

“Minerva,” he said into a quill. “I thought you memory charmed Ms. Watson?”

“I did, Albus,” her voice replied. “Although she somehow managed to intuit my presence and intentions with no information other than Daniel’s short call.”

“Granger was always the most dangerous of the bunch,” Moody growled.

“She is not Hermione Granger anymore,” Albus said. “Just Emma Watson. Just as ‘Harry Potter’ no longer exists, only Daniel Radcliffe. Minerva…your team was responsible for monitoring Emma’s electronic communications, was it not?”

“Yes. We saw nothing suspicious this morning.”

“Then care to explain why I can no longer remember where Emma Watson lives?”

In the ensuing silence, Moody pieced the puzzle together in a snap. “Blasted…has her seal cracked? How did she know to cast a Fidelius Charm?”

Albus mustered his old joints out of the comfortable chair and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, admiring the view of the Thames overshadowed by Tower Bridge. “I fear that her growth exceeded our wildest expectations despite her seal. Daniel, I expected. But her too? We must find her and anyone she came into contact with before…”

Moody let out a snort and went to pour himself a drink, but not before muttering a plethora of detection charms underneath his breath. The intern, watching Moody’s feet carefully, let out a sigh of relief and moved for the exit. Kingsley Shacklebolt promptly burst through.

“Albus!” Kingsley yelled. “We lost track of Rupert Grint!”

“Moody, come in.” Severus’ voice, normally snide and caustic, seemed uncharacteristically concerned. “Tom Felton is missing from his house.”

“Everyone, calm down!” Albus bellowed as voices clashed and struggled. He flicked out his wand with practiced ease and touched it to his communications quill. “Attention all teams. All three subjects are missing and at large. Ready the Polyjuice for the other three and send in Tonks for Daniel. Make up some story about him needing a vacation.”

“That’s what we should’ve done the _instant_ you took him,” Moody said.

“The very fabric of reality itself was warping under the strength of his struggling magic. Forgive me if I didn’t take a moment to shoot my team a text. Or perhaps I should’ve tweeted at them first?” The Supreme Mugwump was ordinarily slow to ire, but the dark impressions hugging his eyes belied his exhaustion.

“Stop, both of you!” Minerva appeared in a shower of phoenix fire. The Headmistress of Hogwarts had large shoes to fill following the Battle of Hogwarts. Dumbledore wore size fifteen wizard slippers, but she had stepped into them with aplomb. “Bickering like children. Honestly.”

Albus flicked his wand and Dobby appeared with an ear-splitting _crack_.

“Dobby is pleased to see you! Harry Potter is restrained.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Albus said, hastily writing on a new sheet of curling parchment. “We need to find his companions before they fully regain their memories and do something…ill-advised. Dobby, please send an owl to Emma Watson's home with this letter. Once it slips into the Fidelius, sneak in after it and activate this two-way portkey. It is of the utmost importance that they do not see you.” He turned to his intern, who had resigned herself to staying in the corner until the day was over. “Ms. Snow? _Finite Incantatem._ Ms. Snow, you performed admirably. Feel free to go now.”

One moment, Emma’s apartment stood silent and empty. A single sock lay on the floor where Dobby had left it. The next, four of the most powerful modern-day mages appeared backed by a full squad of aurors.

“Constant vigilance,” Moody barked, wand out and spinning through several protective incantations without a second thought.

"Is that really necessary?"

“What happened here?” Minerva said, aghast. “Why is all this furniture…is this a new millennial trend?”

Severus snorted, poking shredded ropes. “Don’t be ridiculous, they clearly expected us. Look, Dumbledore's owl is leaving pellets on Emma's dining room table. They've fled.”

Albus had long thought that the next generation ought to replace him. Fantasies of slowly fading away, eating lemon drops and taking long naps - those were the happy thoughts that got him through the day.

He'd been sorely mistaken.

Now his mind was finely attuned to the whimsical tides of power, aging like a fine wine, or like the actor that played Neville Longbottom. His magic detected resonance from a very powerful mage. Her vibration filled the room, blazed in his mind, thrummed in his core.

Albus readied the Elder Wand. He’d never wanted to use the accursed object again, but this was impossibly important. They _couldn’t_ regain their memories. Who knew what they might do?

“_Homenum Revelio._”


	7. Chapter 7

“_Revelio! Specialis Revelio! Appare Vestigium! Accio Emma Watson!_”

“Give it a rest, Albus,” Severus said at last. The first name basis still left a strange aftertaste in his mouth after decades of addressing the man as ‘Professor’. He kicked aside a chair, wand at the ready. A quiet hoot drew his attention to Hedwig, who swiveled her head around and blinked sadly. “They’re not here. We need to go back and draw more power from Daniel.”

Although his own hair was rapidly greying, Severus regarded Albus and Minerva with growing concern and frustration. Age had graffitied their faces, seeped into their eyes, and dragged at their limbs like an insistent child. Yet the mantle of duty plagued them still. Another budding Dark Lord was already on the rise less than two decades after Voldemort’s defeat.

Albus allowed his wand arm to fall limply by his side after attempting several more complicated enchantments. “Never have my senses failed me so.”

“She’s powerful,” Minerva said. “And she had time to prepare. There may even be subtle charms in this room.”

“The little lass played us all,” Moody grunted. He ripped down the blinds with curt downward strokes of his wand, releasing the restraints that held back the dying daylight. “She predicted we’d find the Fidelius and used it as a red herring. She’s probably gone international with the others by now.”

Crack by crack, the group disapparated to chase other leads. Severus stayed behind for a moment, hesitating as he glanced around the overturned apartment. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on what.

His wrist tingled.

Clutching it, he scrutinized the place where he’d made the unbreakable vow with Narcissa all those years ago. _Tch._ He was getting sentimental in his old age.

_Crack._

* * *

If Rupert’s eyes were any wider, he could’ve auditioned for an anime. “Power? They’ve kidnapped Dan to suck his magic?”

“Like the mosquitos they are,” Tom said, wrinkling his nose like he’d smelled maggot-infested food. “Welcome back to the land of the living. How’re you feeling?”

“Like some git stuck a spoon into my brain and spun it around. Where are we?”

“My closet,” Emma said, pushing hangers aside for more space. The room displayed clothes of every style, from cute summer dresses to chic outfits seen only at fashion shoots. “I cast a second Fidelius within the one that hid my apartment.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Rupert exclaimed. “Now what? We’ve got to get Dan back.”

She hesitated. “Do you remember anything about the legilimancy attempt?”

Rupert jolted to his feet and smashed his head into the clothes rack in his haste. “Ow!”

“Careful!” Emma scolded. “_Capacious extremis!_”

The walnut colored walls groaned in response to sheer power behind her space extension charm, stretching and pulling until the closet was as large as her apartment outside.

“Thanks,” Rupert muttered. “What happened after you vanished the shield? I have all these…crazy thoughts in my head. Like I was…”

“Like you’re Ron Weasley.”

“That’s not funny, Emma,” Tom said.

“No, she’s right.” Rupert touched his forehead gingerly. “It’s not like when we were on set. There’re no green screens, no cameras…it feels _real_. I can remember how bad it hurt when the broom smacked me in the face that first day of Quidditch practice with Madam Hooch. I remember the Howler Mum sent me after I stole the flying car.”

Stretching his legs out, Tom shook his head. “False memories. That’s got to be it.”

“Legilimancy is supposed to be able to detect those,” Emma said. “And I saw them too. _Felt_ them.”

A grin crossed Rupert’s face. “Hey, what would your fans think if they caught the beautiful Emma Watson red-handed with me and Tommy boy together in a closet?”

“Don’t make me hex you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tom said, holding up both hands. “Let’s get this straight, eh? You’re saying that Rupert…is actually _Ron Weasley_.”

“Is it that hard to believe? We just saw people who sure thought they were Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, and Snape.”

“Only one way to find out, right?” Rupert said, pointing at Tom with a Marauder’s grin.

“No! Don’t-”

“_Legilimens._”

He emerged from the spell to see Emma’s face creased with concern. Shoving down rising emotions that he didn’t remember having yesterday, Rupert winced as a headache split his mind with foreign memories.

_That kid in Madam Malkin’s was strange. Something about him…no, no matter. Father was losing him in the crowd, and he had to catch up._

_The screaming crowd distracted him as he turned his broom into a sharp dive. Faster. Faster! With the howling vortex drowning it all out, he felt alive. This was his element. Urging his steed forward recklessly, his fingers reached out for the golden sni-_

_His cheek stung underneath his palm, but he pretended it didn’t exist. How dare that mudblood Granger lay a hand on him? Father would certainly hear about this. On second thought, no…Father would never, never hear about this._

_Lights flashed around me. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. My pride pushed me forward even as Harry’s spells drove me back._

_Blood. Pain._

_No._

_I don’t want to do this. Kill Dumbledore? But…my life. My family. This is not right – how did it all become so royally screwed up? It wasn’t supposed to be this way._

“Rupert?”

The ginger exhaled heavily. He placed a shaky hand on Emma’s shoulder, looking over at a stirring Tom. “It wasn’t as bad this time. I told Tom what to expect, and we slowly let the memories out. I…”

“Well?” Emma urged. “Is he really…?”

Rupert nodded.

“How much did you see?” Tom staggered to his feet. His face looked as haggard as that of a soldier returning home and learning his dog just died.

“Not that much. Enough.” The silence stretched between them like a winding country road. Emma affixed a stare at Tom, who was trying his best to study his feet like it was the script to his next role. Rupert was looking at neither of them. It was unbearable.

“_Rictusempra_,” Rupert murmured, shattering the brief tension with a flick of his fingers. Their eyes widened, but it was too late.

“You prat!” Emma howled when the forced giggles finally subsided. “_Aqua Eructo!_"

"_Immobulus!_"

"_Cantis!_"

Tom narrowly avoided another tickling charm in the harmless crossfire after he shrugged off Rupert's. A reluctant smile graced his lips. Diving behind a wardrobe, the former Slytherin gave back better than he got.

_“Calvorio!”_

_“Riddikulus!”_

“That’s for _boggarts_, you twit!”

The three friends collapsed on the ground in a heap, a reluctant truce imposed by drained stamina. They panted for breath and laughed up at the ceiling of Emma’s closet. It felt brighter.

“I’m no good with…heavy stuff,” Rupert admitted, mopping sweat off his brow. “Look, it’s fine. Whatever happened…”

Tom pulled an arm over his face, sobered. “I’ve done horrible things.”

“Stop." Emma rose to her feet and dragged the other two along with her. Without warning, her arms snaked behind their heads and pulled them in tight. “We can think about it later. We’re obviously not the same people as…them. We’ve lived entirely separate lives.”

The hesitation was palpable. Rupert could see it; the spectre of stubborn pride, misery, and indecision hovered around Tom like an overcast cloud. It reminded him of the scared young boy he saw in his memories, the one caught between his own morals and those of a generation too broken to fix.

“We need to get Daniel back,” he insisted. “Whatever this is, we can get through it together. We’ll figure it out, eh?”

And there it was. The look of determination he’d seen in the actor so many times. Whether it was poring over the script or pulling late nights studying Draco Malfoy in the books, Tom was never one to shy away from doing what was necessary. Even if it cost him dearly.

“Yeah. If even _Weasley_ is in, how can I refuse?” Like the sun peeping in from a hole in the clouds, Tom smiled a crooked smile and nodded. "Let's go save Potter.”

“It won’t be easy,” Emma admitted. “I’ve been juggling plans in my head. First, we need to unseal my memories. Tom?”

He looked confused. “What?”

“Will you do the honors?”

_You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!_

_It is exceptionally lonely, being Draco Malfoy. I will always be suspected. There is no escaping the past._

_Whatever life throws at me, I'll take it and be grateful as well._

With a shuddering breath, Tom locked away his fears and tossed out the key. “It would be my pleasure.” His smile turned wicked. “But first…”

Emma blinked. “No-!”

“_Locomotor Wibbly!_”


	8. Chapter 8

“I still can’t believe that the counter curse was just ‘_unjellify’_.” Tom ran a hand along the book spines in the fiction section, pausing at R.L. Stine’s _The Snowman._ He’d loved this book so much as a kid. So much that he didn’t return it after he took it home.

“Are you still on about that?” Emma shook her head disapprovingly, fingers drumming a percussive melody on the computer’s keyboard. The New York Public library’s walls and floors gleamed with wood polish. Brass lamps adorned desks laden with books. “We already know it’s all about _intent._ If you’ve got nothing better to do, help Rupert.”

_“Harry Potter.”_

_“Are you really? I know all about you, of course.” And of course she did. She’d done all her reading before the first day of class._

_Splinters blew past her as the troll’s club swung straight through a bathroom stall. She was going to die. Choking on the rotten stench of decay blowing straight from the creature’s loincloth, she screamed and curled into a ball._

_“Confuse it!”_

_“Oy, pea-brain!”_

_One month. They’d told her it couldn’t be done, that the Polyjuice potion was too difficult. She felt the satisfaction spread from her stomach to her fingers and toes._

_She did it! She actually punched Draco in the face!_

_Lowered her trembling wand, she let her parents fall gently onto the couch. There was no other way, she told herself. Now they’d be safe from the Death Eaters._

“Tom?”

“Coming,” he said, ripping himself out of the shallow pool of memories. “You found something?”

The frown carved on Emma’s face gave her a stern sort of beauty. “I tried harder, but the only memory that’s recent is just Daniel asking me about those words. ‘The Tears of Osiris.’”

“What would Daniel want with some magic water?” Rupert snorted.

“Immortality?” Tom guessed. “Maybe someone was sick, and the tears refer to a cure.”

“There’s nothing about it anywhere on the internet. Blast it all!” Her hand slammed down on the table, echoing in the empty room.

“Whoa, there,” Rupert said. “What’s gotten into you?”

“This is what I’m supposed to be good at!” Emma stared at the clenched fists in her lap. “Research, knowledge…that’s my _specialty_.”

“No,” Tom corrected. “That’s _Hermione’s_ specialty. We already talked about how there’s surprisingly few memories recovered between the three of us. It’s not who we are, Emma.”

She stared off into space. “Osiris. The Egyptian god of the dead. God of resurrection. Judge of the deceased, protector of the fallen, ruler of eternity. Nowhere are there any mention of tears.”

“Here she goes again,” Rupert sighed.

The chair screeched backwards. “Wait. I remember reading something about the oldest treasures of amazing libraries…”

“You would.”

“…And I remember that the Austrian National Library had an interesting one. The _Book of the Dead_, a twenty-foot scroll containing ‘magical spells’ to help the dead go to the afterlife.”

Tom was already in her seat and typing away. “Bloody hell, Emma. Osiris is all over this thing. You don’t think…”

“It’s not a magical artifact,” Rupert realized. “It’s a _spell_. Daniel was looking for some sort of lost spell!”

Emma pointed at the Remembrall that had become their de facto method of travel.

“_Portus._”

Disillusionment and noise-cancelling charms hastily fell into place. “You portkeyed us directly in?” Tom hissed. The darkness of the library stretched into mysterious corners and creepy nooks. Blinking lights flickered like eyes in the shadows as Vienna slept just outside the walls.

“Time’s running out.” Emma peered at the long glass case where the _Book of the Dead_ stretched out for display. “We don’t know what they’re doing to Daniel. Drat. I can’t read it, and we can’t risk a Lumos…”

“_Alohomora._”

“_Rupert!_” Emma said, aghast. The electronic lock gave a soft whirr of defeat as the side window slid open noiselessly. “We can’t just _take_ it!”

“Why not?” The ginger frowned, levitating the scroll out of the glass case carefully. “I thought you said that we were short on time?”

“This is a priceless artifact! You’re desecrating not only an ancient Egyptian relic, but also the largest library in Austria!”

“Are you seriously complaining about books right now?”

“We don’t have another option,” Tom said. “Look, I know it pains you to steal a book, but-”

“Oh, be quiet,” Emma said. “Fine. _Portus._”

Nothing happened when they touched the Remembrall.

“_Portus._”

“_Stupefy!_”

Rupert hurled himself forward on instinct. He slammed into his friends, shoving them down as a bright red flash shattered the glass case behind them. Tinkling shards showered around their heads, decorating the papyrus pages.

“_Protego Maxima!_” Tom yelled, rolling into a crouch. Bending his magic to his will, he pushed out as large of a shield charm as he could manage and blocked off the cavernous entrance.

“I’ve found them!” An auror shouted. “This way! _Stupefy!_”

The sound of stamping feet ripped a curse from Tom’s mouth as the red pulse scattered across the blue-white protection of his shield. “We need to leave _now_.”

“They must have some sort of anti-portkey ward,” Emma said, frantically brushing glass off of the _Book of the Dead_. “Ow! Probably anti-apparition too. How did they know we were here?”

“Worry about that later!” Rupert said. “What happened to all your contingency plans?”

“I’m working on it!”

“Enough,” Tom grunted. “This is why you need a Slytherin on the team. _Incendio!_”

Brilliant green fire billowed outwards, licking greedily at the amassing aurors. Several were forced to divert their attention to flame extinguishing charms. Emma flinched as the ferocious heat obliterated several exhibits.

"Not enough," Tom groaned. "Fine, have it your way."

He let his shield fall and raised an arm until it was eye level, outstretched hand open and commanding.

An auror looked up and paled. "No-!"

“_Fiendfyre!_”


	9. Chapter 9

“This can’t be,” Emma stammered. The dark alleyway wrapped around them as snugly as an invisibility cloak, hiding them away from the sirens blaring in the distance. Vienna’s streetlights cast an ominous, otherworldly glow on the _Book of the Dead_.

“Since when can you read ancient Egyptian?” Tom asked, glancing furtively around the corner.

“I can’t. I’m using Google Translate. The scroll seems innocent enough at first…to Muggles, that is.”

Emma felt Tom peering over her shoulder. Her feelings waged war against her rationality, each despising the other, and stalemated. On one hand, Tom Felton was her dear friend. He was someone she would risk her life for. On the other…

“I don’t get it,” Tom admitted.

_Not Draco,_ she amended. _Just Tom._ “Look at these runes here. If you read them one way, you get a bunch of poems for shepherding the dead in the underworld. ‘For Not Being Eaten By A Snake In The Realm Of The Dead.’ ‘For Not Dying Again In The Realm Of The Dead.’”

The blonde snorted. “Seems like that wouldn’t be so difficult. What’s the other way?”

“Read them in reverse, remove the fluff words, and you get an actual incantation. ‘The Tears of Osiris’. It’s an enchantment that looks like…it looks like it’s meant to rip souls.”

Tom took a step back. “As in, a forced horcrux?”

She shrugged. Something foul was afoot. “Why would Daniel need a spell that tears souls? It’s everything we fought against.”

“There must be some mistake,” Tom said. He traced intricate hieroglyphics that clung to the floating papyrus. The fading ink told a tale of memories long lost. “Unless…”

“Do you think he became like Voldemort? Or _was_ Voldemort?” She saw him stiffen at her words. “It’s not impossible. We have no idea what happened, or why our memories were wiped. What if…”

Rupert dashed in, breath coming out in short gasps as he made shooing motions with his hands. “Need…leave…now!”

“What’s going on?” Tom asked.

“Aurors…coming!”

“Where do we go?” He looked to her. They both did.

This time, she had an answer. She knew where they were holding Daniel, and where they had to go to find answers.

“Boys, let’s go home. _Portus._”

* * *

“How is he?”

“Stable. For now.” Albus tried to smooth out the haggard lines drawn on the canvas of his face, his cheekbones taut and prominent. Their positions were reversed. How often had he spoken with her from the Headmaster’s chair on the other side of this very desk?

Minerva McGonagall slumped, propping up her head with one hand. “He has grown too powerful. How can his magic still bloom under your suppressors?”

“He is beyond me now,” the old wizard said wearily. “If we don’t maintain the restraints, his Occlumency instincts will reform barriers and rip the seal to shreds. A different solution is needed. Time is fleeing the hourglass faster than your Gryffindor cubs lose house points.”

She shuddered. The paintings around the room laughed politely. “At least Fred and George aren’t teaching here anymore. That was…a poor hiring decision on my part.”

“Gred and Forge were the highlight of your teaching staff, in my professional opinion,” Albus said with a twinkle in his eye. He raised his hand to block out the dawn light stretching over the Forbidden Forest.

“What of the others?”

“Merlin, I’ve never felt so old,” he lamented. “I predicted they would be a thorn in our side. I didn’t think they would steal _the Book of the Dead_ and unleash _Fiendfyre_ of all things in the Austrian National Library. It’s an international incident!”

“Albus, we _must_ stop them. They threaten to undo decades of effort.”

“It will take time, time that we don’t have. I have some ideas on h-”

The words stuck in his throat as he noticed the trees of the forbidden forest rustling and moving in the corner of his eyes. So much magic! It warred against his own massive reserves.

“We’re under attack?” Minerva asked in disbelief. “Who would…?” Thick roots ripped out of the ground. Animated treants and massive rock golems rolled forward like an avenging army.

“No,” Albus said, scrutinizing the magical constructs. “That would require far too much energy to maintain, and while I sense great power, there’s still not enough to perform such a titanic feat. It’s an illusion.” A moment later, he lurched out of his seat. “It’s a distraction!”

Wizard slippers flapped underneath his feet as Minerva gave chase. A few students called out their greetings, shooting them odd looks as they passed. This was the last straw. He was petitioning to remove the anti-apparition wards around Hogwarts as soon as possible.

Two second year Hufflepuffs shrieked as he burst into the second-floor girls’ lavatory. He ignored them, fumbling with his phone.

“Girls, excuse us!” Minerva commanded. “Go back to your dorms!”

“Stupid facial recognition software…there!” Harry had recorded him the password…where was it? Ah-ha! He turned up the volume and jammed a wrinkled finger on play.

“_Open._” Harry’s voice hissed ominously and the sink retreated, revealing the mouth of the chamber gaped open in subservience. Albus dove down into the pipe, ignoring the mold and grime. _Please, let me be in time!_ He urged his magic forward like a great steed, flying through the air before abruptly coming to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” Minerva asked, gliding forward alongside him.

“There’s no one here. Daniel’s fine,” he said, waving the Elder Wand. Horror gripped chilly fingers around the nape of his neck. “And we just gave away his location.”

* * *

“You okay, Tommy boy?” Rupert called out. They had a good view of the castle and the surrounding grounds from here.

“It’s tough,” Tom grunted. Sweat dripped down his face. “Just hurry up!”

Rupert liked to think that if Sirius was still alive, the man would be proud. The back of _the Book of the Dead_ now displayed the vast corridors of Hogwarts, their best guess from scattered memories. “Dumbledore’s still not moving. You might need to go with something bigger. Make them dance, or something.”

“I hate you.”

“Maybe he’s not here?”

“No,” Emma said. “He’s got to be. If Dumbledore’s here, they’re keeping him somewhere.”

Rupert scrutinized the map. If their hasty work could capture everyone at Hogwarts, they’d already know where Daniel was. Unfortunately, the multilayered enchantments on the original Marauder’s map weren’t so easily duplicated. They didn’t even know where half the students were.

“Do you really think that Harry was…dark? And that we might’ve been helping him?”

“Just one theory among many,” she replied. “I have ten others that are equally as likely.”

Movement. “They’ve noticed. They’re fast…Merlin, they’re going to the second-floor loo. The Chamber.”

Tom ceased the spell, doubling over. “Great. Now what?” The former Slytherin looked pale, and Emma looked conflicted.

“Look,” Rupert said at last, “We don’t know if Harry was an evil bugger or not. But Daniel isn’t, and he’s trapped in there right now. I say we go in there and bust him out.”

It took time, but he saw his words wipe the indecision from Emma’s expression and the exhaustion from Tom’s posture.

“For Daniel,” Emma said. She raised a fist towards the sky in the direction of the great castle. “As planned, then.”

“For Daniel,” Tom echoed with a smirk. He raised his arm high.

“For our best mate,” Rupert finished, closing out their formation.

**“_Ascendio!_”**


	10. Chapter 10

Two Slytherins and a Gryffindor sat underneath the great tree in the Hogwarts courtyard, enjoying the morning breeze. The fifth-years shared a hard-won comfortable silence. Occasionally, one of them would bring up the Potions Paper due Friday or the upcoming Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

“_Arresto Momentum!_”

They watched, stunned, as a figure dropped from the sky like a swooping sparrow. The brown-haired head landed neatly in a crouched position before sprinting towards the school.

“_Arresto Momentum!_”

The second figure hit the grass just before he was ready, staggering off balance before moving to follow the first. A short yell of panic drew his attention upwards, and all three students peered out from under the tree’s dark-green coat.

“_Arresto Momentu-!_”

The student trio winced as the charm took the brunt of the fall, but not the bite. The second figure slammed a hand to his forehead before pointing.

“_Brackium Emendo,_” he muttered. Noticing the children, he waved nonchalantly before dragging the groaning ginger into the school. “Nothing to see here. Have a good day!”

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy blinked owlishly. “Al, did I have too much firewhiskey last night, or was that my father?”

Albus Severus Potter rushed to gather up his school supplies. “Not just your father. That was Rose’s parents too!”

Rose Granger-Weasley had abandoned her bag and was already chasing after them. “Forget your stuff, come on! This is a disaster!”

* * *

James Sirius Potter was sneaking around with a minion in tow. “Now,” he said. “The first law about being a Marauder is-”

“Solemly swearing to do no good,” Hugo Granger-Weasley echoed dutifully.

“Exactly,” James said, tapping the Marauder’s map with his wand. “Someday soon, I’m going to graduate, and it’s going to be up to you. Now…what in Merlin’s beard?”

“Is the map wrong?” Hugo asked.

“The map is never wrong.” James frowned. But that would mean…

Two blurs sped by them, blowing the parchment into their faces. The two Gryffindor students stared after them in shock.

“Hey!” James yelled. “Get back here! After them, Hugo!”

* * *

A Gryffindor girl walked alone down an empty hall reading a Muggle book in one hand and twirling her hair in the other. Magic danced around her feet and fluttered through her red hair. Now and then she glanced up and examined the patterns in the stone walls, lost in thought.

A gasping redhead jogged slowly past her. “Excuse me, miss, would you happen to know where the Headmaster’s office is?”

“Up the stairs over there, seventh floor, gargoyle,” the third-year replied absentmindedly.

It wasn’t until she rounded the corner and the magic whispering in her ears finally caught her attention that she spun around in panic. It was already too late – Rupert Grint was out of sight, and the staircase was shifting in the wrong direction.

Lily Luna Potter snapped her book shut. Her deep brown eyes crackled with latent power as she swiftly determined what his presence implied and what she needed to do. She ran in the opposite direction.

“_Hogwarts,_” she intoned. “_Heed my call._”

* * *

“I came as quickly as I could,” Neville said. His professor robes flapped behind him as he rushed over to his fellow teachers. “What’s the situation?”

“No sign of them yet,” Severus replied, wand at the ready. His silver hair made Neville feel old. It seemed like just yesterday that his boggart was a younger, black-haired, sneering Snape. “Albus is down in the chamber. Minerva is guarding the entrance. The rest of us are out here, where there’s more room to maneuver.”

Generic Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher #23 spoke up. “How will they try to get past us? Do we know anything about their best spells?”

Filius Flitwick adjusted his bowtie. “If their memories are back at all, we will have our hands full. Unpredictable, those three are. If Daniel were here…”

“Shouldn’t we just talk to them?” Neville gripped his own wand tightly, eyes scanning the empty corridors to either side.

“_Tch._ You’re simplistically assuming that they’ll give us time to breathe.” Severus jabbed his wand at the ground, casting several powerful defensive enchantments. “They’re coming. I can feel it. Prepare yourselves!”

* * *

Tom watched as Emma consulted their makeshift Marauders’ map. The air felt heavy with magic. It was soaked into the stone and rippled in waves underneath his feet.

It brought back memories, not all of them good.

“This is not easy, Emma, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Oh, be quiet. I’m levitating half of it.”

He frowned. “I had to make the forest look like it was dancing earlier!”

“I sent out all the warning messages to the students!”

Tom looked back, scanning for any signs of the rascals who had tried to chase them. For some reason, he felt like he ought to know them. It tickled the back of his mind, but he ignored it. Daniel was more important.

Trays and trays of steaming hot food floated high in the air. Steak and kidney pie lay sliced, wafting the tantalizing smell of dinner into his nostrils. Treacle tarts stacked next to a big turkey whose drumsticks stuck out like clubs.

“It’s time,” Emma said. “I’ve recast the homonculus charm locally, so there should be no more students in the danger zone. The positions of the professors are here. Minerva’s in the bathroom, and Dumbledore must be guarding Harry. Exactly as I predicted. Go!”

Extending all ten fingers, they reached out with their magic. Tom could feel their split power shooting down the hall and around the corner, honing in on the professors’ position like heat seeking missiles.

“_Lumos Maxima!_”

“_Muffliato!”_

Emma’s plan had been simple. Take out their vision. Take out their hearing. And then, before they could recover, cause as much havoc as possible. Tom readied most of a pre-Halloween feast. It had almost broken Emma’s heart when the little elves had given it to them happily, asking if they needed more. She cringed as he sent it flying down the hall.

“_Geminio._”


	11. Chapter 11

“Severus, respond!” Minerva barked into her sleeve. “What is happening out there?”

Yells of surprise and confusion greeted her before the sound of wet splats and sizzles drowned them out. She clutched her fir and dragon heartstring wand firmly. Although she couldn’t match Albus, she was still Order of Merlin, First Class. _I’m getting too old for this nonsense._

“Drop it!” Tom yelled, bursting through the loo door with a wand jammed to Rose’s neck. A few drumsticks and bowls of pudding slid in with them, squelching as they doubled. Minerva’s stomach dropped out from under her. _No! How? _The girl’s eyes were wide with fright, mouth moving soundlessly. “Make any move, say any word, and she dies.”

Her wand clattered to the tiled floor. “Tom, don’t-”

“Quiet! Not a word! I won’t risk you wandless casting. Turn around and face the wall. Now!”

She complied. _I can’t risk it. Forgive me, Albus._

“_Petrificus Totalus,_” said a crisp female voice. _What!? _Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rose approach and snap her fingers. The youthful features morphed back into Emma’s stern beauty. _Human transfiguration. Of all the things to trick me with! _

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall,” she said. “We won’t let anything stop us from saving Daniel.”

_You blithering idiots! That’s not…_

With another snap of her fingers, Emma transfigured herself back into Rose and walked towards the Chamber entrance.

“_Bombarda Maxima._”

After the sound of shattering ceramic and glass settled, Minerva noticed the doubling food oozing its way towards her. _Not like this,_ she groaned. _What a pathetic way to die. Suffocation by pudding. _

She was close to breaking the petrification charm when she heard shouts and the swish of wandwork outside. The door burst open once more.

“_Finite Incantatem!_”

A bedraggled group of children chased down the last wriggling mounds of food, repeatedly lashing out with the counter-spell. Jam clung to their hair, grease covered their robes, and random scraps of meat and vegetables dripped off their limbs.

James, Al, Rose, Scorpius, and Hugo rushed to her side. Her magic finally shattered the restraints that bound her.

“Leave,” she shouted, whirling about and snatching up her wand. “This is no place for children!”

“Our parents are down there,” Rose said. “Please, Headmistress!”

“They’re in trouble, aren’t they?” Hugo asked.

Minerva scanned their faces. “How did you even know? It’s a closely guarded secret. James! Go get your mothers, now!” 

“It’s not their fault,” Scorpius objected. “We figured it out on our own. It wasn’t that hard.”

A horrible worry crossed her mind. “Wait, where’s Lily?”

* * *

_So strong._

That was the only thought Emma could manage as the cold stone floor of the chamber pressed hard against her cheek. She tasted metal. Her limbs felt heavy, like when she’d been petrified by the basilisk.

Dumbledore hadn’t been fooled for a second. The wizard immediately triggered several runes clusters that disabled Tom’s shield charms the moment they arrived, launching straight into a transfiguration spell chain that sent stone lions pouncing from above. When they moved to counter, the constructs immediately blurred into a razor-sharp featherstorm.

No time to think! Light beams shot at them from multiple angles. Water particles formed mist under their feet, obscuring their vision. The white-bearded old man moved faster than it seemed possible for his age, countering every spell almost before their incantations finished.

_Come on, come on…move!_ Tom was barely on his feet, and wouldn’t last much longer. She could see Daniel lying flat on his back in the middle of the chamber. Long clear tubes snaked past the steel restraints that bound him to the center of a ritualistic pentagram, fastened securely to a helmet blinking with various colors. _They’re draining him dry of magic!_

Tom collapsed on his hands and knees next to her, his arm bent at a strange angle. He coughed wetly.

“You are both meddling with something you don’t fully understand.” There wasn’t a trace of grandfatherly kindness in that harsh voice. “Reckless, naïve, and above all…foolhardy. There is no cure for his condition.”

“Let him go,” Tom spat. “Whatever you’re using his magic for, we’ll stop you.”

_That’s good, Tom. Just stall him a bit more._

“You don’t know?” Dumbledore’s disbelief-saturated voice was almost indignant. “You came in here not knowing…you thought that I…”

A small voice spoke up in the back of her mind. It didn’t seem like he was bluffing; there was no reason for him to. _Cure for his condition?_

“Where’s Rupert?”

The ginger appeared in a timely burst of phoenix fire over the chamber. Fawkes let out a great screech, carrying Rupert downwards as they dove towards their comatose friend. “Daniel!”

“No!” Dumbledore’s desperation rent the air with power. Even as the Elder Wand summoned massive chains from the ground, Emma knew he wouldn’t be fast enough.

A second burst of phoenix fire exploded into existence. A girl with hair to match pointed her wand upwards at the first phoenix-wizard duo.

“_Impedimenta!_”

Emma’s instincts prevailed. “Stop!” 

Fawkes jerked to the side as the curse clipped his wings, losing hold of Rupert’s shirt and careening away. The impact of a hundred and sixty-five pounds of human burst a collection of clear tubes that let out a menacing hiss. 

The world exploded. Rupert and the girl blew backwards like leaves before a typhoon as a pulse of pure magic ballooned underneath them. Dumbledore swung the Elder wand like a great blade, raising cocoons of silk to cushion their flight and reel them in.

Daniel sat upright. His green eyes gleamed like lighthouses in the night.

He _screamed_.

Emma felt it coming. Another pulse. She lurched to her feet, but Dumbledore was already in front of her. His arms stretched upwards like he was Atlas holding up the sky, guarding them with both body and magic.

“_Protego Maxima!_”


	12. Chapter 12

“Butterflies and moonshine, raindrops and honey! Flowers aplenty, and a big raggedy bunny! “

Rupert held a bag of frozen peas to his head, staring at a prancing Daniel ricocheting around the Great Hall. The professors guarded the various doors, making sure the former Boy-Who-Lived couldn’t leave.

“The stars! They burn! Come, fly with me into the endless abyss!” He dragged Lily and Rose behind him, apparently not noticing the mournful looks on their faces.

Dumbledore sat down with a defeated groan, also nursing a bag of peas. “It’s good for them to keep an eye on him. The children are growing up.”

“Explain,” Rupert blurted out. “You promised you would. Why is he like that?” He vaguely registered Tom and Emma’s presence across from him. They were silent.

Dumbledore sighed. “Where should I even begin? Alright. After the Second Wizarding War and the second death of Voldemort, there was peace. Mister Potter and Mr. Weasley joined the Auror Corps. Ms. Granger joined the ministry, working with both Magical Creatures and Law Enforcement. Draco…was rich and didn’t need a job.”

Tom winced. “You speak as if we aren’t them.”

“Let me finish. Keep in mind, this is secondhand information; I was dead at the time.” He glanced at Daniel, who was busy walking across the Slytherin table with only his hands. A flick of the Elder Wand sent up a spiraling lightshow that coalesced into an image of Harry.

“He never got his happy ending, after the war. Not like it was written in the books. Harry never forgave himself for the ones who had fallen.”

The lightshow danced to and fro like fireflies, forming new patterns as Dumbledore recited names dutifully.

“Fred. Tonks. Sirius. Severus. The list goes on and on. Even me, I’m told. He began researching the Tears of Osiris in his free time; a long-lost, forbidden, _cursed_ ritual that was rumored to revive fallen souls.”

Another flick. The scene shifted, forming a giant globe racked with red explosions.

“Technology was our undoing. Eventually, inevitably, mankind discovered wizardkind. Muggles feared wizards and their arcane power, seeking to militarize us. Wizards feared muggles and their rapidly advancing civilization. Everyone always fears what they don’t understand, after all. All it took was a single spark, a single misunderstanding, and war erupted.”

“That can’t be,” Emma said. “People love the magical world! There are fanbases all across-”

“Ms. Watson, you still haven’t figured it out, have you? In our world, _Harry Potter_ the book series was never published.”

Her face froze. Rupert knew it belied the gears turning underneath. “Oy! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m getting there, Rupert,” Dumbledore said. “Bear with me a few moments longer. War started just a month after Hugo was born. Despite our best efforts, we lost almost everyone in the bloodshed. What neither Voldemort nor Grindelwald could accomplish over decades, the brightest scientists and soldiers of man achieved in _months_.”

Daniel skipped by. “My dear Professor. Do you recall that devils and angels have a single thing in common? It’s their _loneliness_. Ta-ta!”

“Uncle, get back here!” Rose puffed after him. “Lily, you corner him around the other side! James, get off your dumb arse and help!”

Dumbledore shook his head in pity. “The first to go, I’m told, was Mr. Weasley. You took a bullet for Harry in a massive confrontation known as the Massacre of London. The next was Ms. Granger. She passed away helping Harry in his desperate attempt to chase down the last traces of the Tears of Osiris.”

“What about me?” Tom asked. “Draco wasn’t on the…friendliest of terms with Harry.”

“No, he wasn’t. But at that point, there were precious few familiar faces. I’m told by observers that he and Harry stood back to back, fighting heroically at the Battle of Beijing in a last-ditch effort to save the Chinese Ministry.”

“I died.”

“Draco died, taking knife to in the chest rather than duck aside. Harry ended up one of the last wizards left in the world. That’s when he finally found it – the Tears of Osiris, hidden within an old Egyptian relic.”

“The _Book of the Dead_,” Emma said. “We found it as well!”

“As did Voldemort, and Grindelwald before him,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “It was left alone for a reason. The willpower and magic required for that damned ritual are simply too great, but there’s another restriction – in order to use that spell, legend suggests that something of equal value must be sacrificed.”

“But it does nothing useful,” Emma argued. “It looks like a spell meant to create mass horcruxes!”

“Ah, you translated the first Tear of Osiris. The Tear for souls. Fate has a morose sense of humor, for the ancient Egyptians never associated crying tears with the action ‘to tear’. Nevertheless, there are three Tears of Osiris.”

_Swish_ went the Elder Wand, creating three large droplets of water that contained various images. In the background, the sound of Daniel singing a Christmas carol carried across the empty tables.

“Legend has it that the first Tear rips souls from their repositories in the fabric of the universe, living or dead. The second Tear rips the fabric of time, allowing you to collect souls from as far back as you can travel. The third Tear rips the fabric of space, allowing you to traverse dimensions.”

Emma rose shakily, just as Rupert connected the dots. Tom buried his face in his hands.

“Oh Daniel,” Emma choked out, watching as he did cartwheels across the High Table where the professors usually sat. “He brought everyone back, didn’t he? And took us to another earth?”

“I imagine he traveled as far back in time as he could manage, and it cost him everything,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “The strength of his magic is undeniable. No one knows exactly how he did it. When the great Event happened, I awoke and found him like you see him now, wandering the corridors of Hogwarts and talking to himself.”

The large doors of the Great Hall swung open. In swept a black-haired witch with elegant features, followed closely by J.K. Rowling.

“Ginny, Astoria, come sit,” Dumbledore called out. “I was just explaining what happened after the Event.”

“J.K. Rowling is Ginny!?” Rupert almost fell off the bench.

Joanne slapped him across the head. “Yes, former brother mine.”

“Technically we both are, as we share the role. Hello, Draco,” Astoria said, laying an arm around a shell-shocked Tom.

“Human transfiguration,” Emma realized. “And that’s what you did to us! We’re actually adults…you transfigured us into kids, and faked our growth with incremental incantations! But why?”

“Well,” Joanne said. “We found ourselves alive in a completely different universe than we remembered, with a Harry that had lost his mind. We tried to find a cure, but…”

Astoria shook her head. “Nothing. Hermione, brilliant lady as she was, almost killed herself a second time trying to find some way to lift the malady.”

“Yes. When the chaos caused by the Event ended, we asked ourselves how we could prevent the same tragedies that Harry saved us from.”

The redheaded author extracted a wand from her sleeve and manipulated the floating lights.

“We decided to publish a children’s book about his adventures, a story that would hopefully prepare the world for when we inevitably join them. We couldn’t have predicted how popular it would become. Harry dear…I wish he could see just how many lives he has touched.”

Emma frowned like she was trying to solve a massive jigsaw puzzle and didn’t quite have all the pieces. “You made us children and wiped all of our memories. Why?”

Joanne looked her straight in the eye and gripped her shoulder tight. “Because you begged us to, you stupid fool. With great sorrow, we locked away Harry’s memories and magic, reverting him to the mind and body of a child. It was the only way to block the curse. When books became film, he became Daniel Radcliffe playing as Harry. No one else deserved to be that role. We felt he would be happy this way, but you three couldn’t bear the thought of him being alone out there.”

“You were quite insistent, as I remember,” Astoria said dryly. “Ron was the same. Draco too, surprisingly. You forced us to obliviate all but a few memories that we had to avoid, for fear of damaging your psyche. It was stupid and sentimental. It was human.”

“What exactly is driving him insane?” Emma asked.

“Ah, just as analytical as you were back then.” Astoria clasped her hand tightly. “Magic affects your mind just as mind affects your magic. Harry’s very magic and memories had become interwoven and infected. It was like his soul had developed cancer.”

“The seal, all that talk of draining his power,” Rupert said. “You were trying to slow down the infection.”

“Not exactly. I intended to seal away his magic and memories permanently,” Dumbledore lamented. “When I went to Obliviate him the night he accidentally rediscovered one of his favorite spells, I thought perhaps we could still keep up this dance, this act.”

The lights reformed and expanded. Chains wrapped around four great suns, each pulsing with its own heartbeat.

“I hoped, stubborn old man that I am, that the lives of Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, Rupert Grint, and Tom Felton could go undisturbed and happy as they were. We all felt that you, the heroes of the wizarding world, deserved that. I failed to notice that Daniel’s magic had begun to erode my restraints. And when his magic broke free…”

“…so did his cursed memories,” Joanne finished. “No one blames either of you, Albus and Rupert.” She gave him a wry smile. It only made Rupert feel worse.

“But…the kids…” Emma trailed off. “You two have been raising them the whole time?”

“With help. But yes, it was an idiotic and irresponsible decision on your part.” The author’s voice cracked. She gazed across the hall where her former husband was busy climbing the Hufflepuff tapestry.

“It would have made no difference who played Emma Watson, or Rupert Grint, or Tom Felton. It didn’t have to be you three. And yet…I wished it could have been me! I wished that I could have found some way to feel _something more,_ do _anything more,_ to honor his sacrifice, the sacrifice of the _man I love_.”

Quiet descended around the table like nightfall, save for Fawkes, who was crying into a mug in front of Ron.

“Now what?” Tom asked at last. “Surely, there must be a way…”

“There is no way!” Joanne shouted, slamming both fists down on the glazed wood. Her shoulders quivered as sobs racked her body. “There’s nothing we can do! In a few hours, he’ll get quieter and quieter, until he unleashes another wave of pent-up magic. Then he reverts back to this sorry state!”

Dumbledore sighed, taking off his wizard hat. “It’s my fault. I failed to notice that my rarely-used ancient seal had constrained all your powers instead of dissipating them. After almost two decades of being cooped up, you had enough power at your fingertips to bend reality to your whim. Beyond that, you still had the instinctual pathways built up in your brain to use it.”

“Harry wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, Albus. Besides, it would do the children good to see one of his episodes,” Astoria murmured. “They deserve to understand, for closure. Before we try to wipe his memory again.”

“Old buddy, old pal,” Daniel sang as he stopped by. “Old mate, old gal!”

“Daniel.” Rupert sniffed, grabbing the stray arm that waved back and forth. “It’s me. Can you see me?”

“Sometimes I think that I’m the sound of a single hand clapping, or perhaps the noise a tree makes when there’s no one around to hear it fall.”

“I’m going to get you out of there, you hear me? I promise.”

“Rupert,” Dumbledore said wearily. “Please, sit down. It’s not your obligation anymore – memories make up the person, and you are no longer Ron Weasley. You have a chance at a new life, and Harry would…Harry would want that for all of you.”

Gazing at the cup in front of him, Rupert stroked Fawkes’ head. “You knew all along, didn’t you? Ever since I found you in the Headmaster’s office. Well…I trust you.” In one quick gulp, he downed the cup of phoenix tears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Emma asked.

Rupert straightened up, looking Daniel in the eye. “Do you know what my best spell is?”

Tom frowned. “What’s going on?”

The ginger barked out a short laugh. “Harry had several. He was probably blasted _Merlin_ level with the Protego, Expelliarmus, and Expecto Patronum. Hermione was good at almost everything she tried. Draco had such a knack for fire magic that he could probably give Dumbledore a run for his money.”

“That he could,” the old man admitted. “You yourself were quite adept, as I remember.”

“You don’t have to flatter me.” Rupert grabbed Daniel’s arm again to keep him from running off. “I was a mess. I was never a good student at Hogwarts, and my greatest aspiration outside of playing Ron Weasley was to be an ice cream truck man.”

He hugged Daniel tight and kept him there. “My best spell…my _favorite_ spell…was the one you taught me, Emma. The one I could never get right at first, the one that started our friendship. Ironic, now that it’s come to this…magic is all about intent, right?”

“Rupert, what are you doing?”

He could still hear her voice in the back of his mind, coaching him in his pronunciation. After the incident with the troll, he’d practiced this charm over and over again to make sure he’d never get it wrong.

“Come back to us, mate. _Wingardium Leviosa._”


	13. Chapter 13

Osiris awoke. A human child stood in front of him, scratching orange hair in bewilderment. Was this a natural ginger, or was one of those crazy millenial fads he didn’t bother keeping up with? First it was some weird ice bucket thing, then it was fidget spinners…

“Blimey, I really didn’t think the spell would do this. Who’re you?”

To respond, or not to respond? Stretching his arms upwards, Osiris yawned into the black void he passively maintained. Emptiness was good. It numbed his past sorrows, curbed his regrets, and dulled his mortal memories.

“Bit of a nutter, aren’t you?”

So. Annoying. “Mortal, you would do well to mind your tongue.”

That clamped the human right up. Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes again, the ginger remained.

“Well, don’t just stand there! What do you want? Why have you summoned me?”

The child paled. “Summoned? I just wanted to lift the curse on Daniel. Wingardium Leviosa is a lifting charm, so I thought if I just gave it the right intent…”

He rolled his eyes. “Mortals, always meddling with things they don’t fully understand. I programmed a failsafe if someone ever tried to remove my spell; great work, me. I’m Osiris. Lord of Souls.”

The human sucked in his breath. “I’m Rupert. I’m here to save my friend.”

“I know who you are. What a dumb name.”

“Hey!” Rupert turned a shade of red that matched his hair. “At least my name can be pronounced, _Oh Sir Is_.”

Osiris yawned again. A lie here would suffice. “Sorry, but you can’t bargain for dead souls. Something about upsetting the natural laws of the universe.”

“He’s not dead.”

“You’re referring to Daniel Radcliffe, born Harry James Potter. He may as well be.”

“But he’s not. And we need him back.”

The ancient entity stretched again, slowly turning in circles amidst the black nothingness. “Why should I help you?”

“It would cost you nothing,” Rupert said. “You’re a god, right? Why’d you curse him anyways?”

Explaining things to mortals was such a bore. “Do you think I have infinite energy at my disposal? Let’s go back to the beginning.”

The ginger yelped as space collapsed around them, inky blackness melting into color and sound. It was chaos. Bullets and spells blasted past one another. All around them, wizards and muggles alike tore at each other’s throats. Rupert flinched as a massive column of fire billowed right through them.

“The war was a tragedy. My followers perished during the fighting on your earth. It wasn’t even close.”

“I don’t get it. We have anti-Muggle charms, right?” Rupert said. “And we have Harry. And Dumbledore!”

“All it takes is a single captured and tortured wizard, a single disloyal squib, and all your precious little secrets come crashing down. It happened all over the world. Your biggest weakness was their greatest strength; numbers. Sheer numbers of possible ideas and tactics to defeat your people ultimately proved to be too much.”

“There aren’t that many of us,” he admitted.

“No. And unlike your spells, bullets fire faster than thoughts. Once you erected constant wards, they just upped the firepower.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Rupert asked, watching the carnage.

“So you can understand just how many souls Harry James Potter asked me to retrieve. This is a single battle in a war spanning decades. Look closely!”

Osiris collapsed the fabric of his dimension back into black nothingness before creating the image of a Mobius strip in the shape of an infinity sign. Water rippled over its surface.

“What is that?”

Humans. Always needing to be coddled. That Granger chick had understood immediately.

“It’s the timeline of a universe. Water represents the many souls living out their lives. Humans have invented many ways of thinking about time, but they overlooked the simplest.”

Walking up to the strip, Rupert watched as the water jumped and frothed about. “So…a horizontal line on this represents a moment in time? And all the souls of that moment.”

That surprised him. It appeared that this Rupert fellow wasn’t as dim as he appeared. “Precisely. All moments exist at once. The way those moments happen depends on the stream of souls traveling over it. Think of each horizontal line of water as a different lifetime of yours. In one, you were in Gryffindor. In another, you ended up in Hufflepuff. Each one moves across these moments, experiencing them differently.”

Rupert opened his mouth, and then closed it. “I don’t get it.”

Ugh. “Of course you don’t. No matter. Here, surely you’ll understand this.” The mobius infinity strips multiplied, expanding endlessly. “The multiverse. You get that, right?”

“Yeah, it’s like in Avengers.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Osiris traced a line across the original Mobius strip, levitating the water away and inserting it into another. “Harry wanted me to permanently change the timeline, not just his own line of water, but make a permanent ramp so that all lines of water behind him would encounter the same phenomenon of being saved and transported to another universe. Do you understand how monumentally hard that is?”

“Um, no.”

“I had to expand the new Mobius strip by almost double, discard this one, all so that Harry James Potter could save his precious people. There’s a cost associated with that, Rupert. It doesn’t come cheap. I had to give new bodies to the already deceased. I had to merge the memories of the living with the the minds of those in the second universe, and _then-_”

“Look, Mister Death God, I…I really don’t get a lot of what you’re saying. Harry paid the cost already, so why the curse?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Osiris scoffed. “Harry didn’t even come close to paying the cost. His puny magic might be large for your people, but on the cosmic scale? The kinds of tasks he was asking me to do? A drop in an infinitely large bucket. And he got off cheap.”

“The curse,” Rupert said. “It multiplies his magic and siphons it off to you!”

How could this child be so dumb yet so insightful when it mattered? “Yes, something like that. Harry paid not just with his magic, but with the magic of every Harry-moment that would come after him. That was the only method that could come close.”

“He doesn’t deserve that,” Rupert said. “He saved the entire wizarding world. Can’t you draw energy from somewhere else? Let him go!”

“Energy from where?” Osiris laughed. “It’s not free! There’s always a cost, Rupert.”

“Then take my magic instead. All of it.”

Osiris stopped laughing. “You’re not serious.”

“No, Sirius has black hair. Do you have trouble seeing?”

“I swear, the impudence,” he muttered. “You’re aware you would die, right? And it would cost me greatly to transfer the energy inputs?”

The determination in the redhead’s eyes was admirable. “I promised I would bring him back.”

“Your magic isn’t even enough. It’s not as strong as Harry’s. I’d have to take your very essence and convert it into power. All Ruperts in the Mobius Strip wouldn’t exist, would never have existed. Your friends and family wouldn’t ever know who you were.”

Rupert was quiet. Hah! He knew it. That one always made them turn away. Finally, he could go back to slee-

“Yeah, fine, whatever! Harry will be better after this, right? He’ll be back to normal?”

This human. “Are you insane? Did the concept completely escape your brain? You, Ron, will have never met Harry on the train, will have never made friends with Hermione. The timeline is self-repairing, so their lives will be more or less unchanged, but…this is truly permanent non-existence!”

“I don’t care,” Rupert said stubbornly. “Harry can’t…he can’t stay like he is now. So many people are hurting because of it. I can’t go back without him!”

Osiris was silent. “Fine. It’s still going to cost me greatly. Prove to me that you’re worthy…with the trials of Osiris.”

With a snap of his fingers, they were suddenly standing on a grassy field in the middle of the pitch-black void.

“There are ten steps between me and you,” he said. “All you have to do is cross these ten steps and hit me once. If you can do that, I’ll grudgingly lift the curse on Harry and reroute the energy streams to you instead.”

“What’s the catch?” Rupert asked warily.

“Each step you take eliminates one of your senses. Don’t worry, you’ll still know which direction is forward. After five, the pain begins. If you can maintain your sanity, then-”

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk to much? I’m starting.”

Rupert took one step forward and flinched. Osiris knew what was happening – step one was lost vision. After another, Rupert lost his sense of hearing, drowning him in the empty black void.

Smell, taste, and touch went next. He pitied the fool. The first five were easy. Harry had all but sprinted through them.

On his sixth step, Rupert had to endure the pain of being burned alive. On seven, he kept burning, but felt like he was drowning. The death god saw the panic set in as the mortal flailed around.

Eight was the worst nausea imaginable, and still he came slowly at Osiris, spittle flying from his mouth. He gasped for breath and scratched at his skin.

Nine brought about the sensation of constantly being crushed to death. Rupert swayed in place, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish for what must have been minutes. He drew in a single, shuddering breath, and laboriously took the tenth step.

Ten was the most horrible of them all. It exposed the human mind to the emptiness of non-existence. Those brains weren’t meant to handle input like that.

Rupert took another step after the trials, moaning as he swung a fist at Osiris. The god stepped aside as he swung another, and another, still coming. Catching his fist, the mournful deity steadied him.

“You basically lost your mind after step eight, didn’t you?”

The child didn’t reply. A trickle of drool dripped out of his mouth.

“And yet, you kept going, somehow knowing that you had to keep fighting for your friend.”

Osiris closed his eyes. Only one other had passed the trials in all of eternity past. Grindelwald and Voldemort backed out after step seven. Hermione made it to eight. Harry reached step nine, second place, and barely grazed him.

“No one will ever know of what you’ve done here.”

He’d have to erase the mortal’s memory of this, else his soul would remain forever fractured in time.

“But I will, and I will remember. Rupert Grint…you have my respect.”

It would be annoying, but he could deal with taking just the mortal’s existing and future life force. It would cost Osiris dearly, but he was a being of honor. This child’s spirit was strong. He couldn’t just ignore that.

With a sigh, Osiris warped space and time, wincing at the power drain. Yes, he’d have to sleep now. At least, until the next fool summoned him.

Mortals. So needy.

* * *

Daniel woke up on the floor of the Great Hall, looking up at the enchanted ceiling. He felt as if he’d woken up after a very long sleep.

Wait. Great Hall?

“No! Please, wake up. Please, please…” Emma’s wail brought him scrambling to his feet. What a strange sight! Tom and Emma were there, as was a motley group of people that looked like they were cosplaying the Harry Potter series. Was he dreaming? Did he forget that he had a film shoot? When did he sign the contract for a new HP book?

“Rupert?” He rushed over to his fallen friend. Wow, it must’ve been ages since they’d last seen each other. “What happened?”

A bone crushing hug enveloped him as J.K. Rowling wept into his shoulders.

“Um…what’s going on? What happened to Rupert? Why is J.K. here?”

Emma didn’t look up at him. Tears drizzled down her cheeks as she stroked Rupert’s hair.

“He somehow absorbed the brunt of the curse for you,” Dumbledore’s actor said.

“Curse?”

“Hey everyone! Huh. This isn’t so bad!”

Daniel looked up to see the ghost of Rupert Grint hovering above them. “Blimey, that’s some good holographic tech, Rupert. It looks so real!”

“You, shut up,” Astoria’s actor growled. “We’ll get you caught up later.”

“Rupert!” J.K. Rowling looked up in disbelief. “You…”

“_Diffindo!_” Emma swung her arm up in an arc, and a wave of pressurized air blasted through Rupert’s ghostly body. Daniel’s mouth dropped open.

“Hey! What gives, Emma?”

“You absolute _twit_! Who gave you permission to sacrifice yourself for Daniel!? _Sectumsempra_!”

Daniel watched with growing amazement as Emma chased the apparently real ghost of Rupert Grint around the Great Hall. All around him, everyone was laughing and crying and cheering and weeping. The actor that played Dumbledore sat heavily next to him.

“We have a lot to tell you, my dear boy.”

Frowning, he watched a group of children giggle and chase after Emma as she cast spell after spell at the fleeing ghost.

“Yeah, I get that feeling,” Daniel said.

“Emma, stop! You can’t kill me, I’m _already dead_!”

“Says you! I’ll chase you to hell and kill you again, you prat! _Avada Kedavra_!”


	14. Chapter 14

Emma carefully poured an extract into the glowing cauldron in front of her. The shattered essence of a philosopher’s stone mingled with the bubbling molten mass of quicksilver superheated with dragon fire.

“Do you really think this will work? Better question. Do you really want this to work?”

She looked up at her fellow teaching assistant. It’d been backbreaking work, but she’d graduated Hogwarts with Tom and Daniel a mere three years after they regained their memories.

Who could have known that she would enjoy teaching under Snape, of all people?

“Alchemy is not the same as Potions,” she said wryly. “Potions is all about combination. Alchemy is separation. We’re going all the way back to the basics, and those have never led me astray. Yes, I want this to work.”

Tom flicked his wand. Emma saw the nervous trail of sparks cascade to the dungeon floor. Their magic had gradually gotten weaker over time as the excess power faded. They’d decided that this was simply unacceptable, and worked their way back up.

“Emma, I mean…he’s happy. Have you seen him lately? He zooms about the Great Hall, delivering ice cream to children. He talks to people about their problems. He’s a darned great influence on the houses, if you ask me, and surprisingly unbiased.”

“It _is_ what he always wanted,” she replied, scattering pixie tears into the pot. “Bringing joy wherever he could. We should go watch Daniel’s speech.”

“Yeah, it’s almost time. But back up for a second, why disturb him?”

Emma looked up from the ancient tome she’d chased down over summer break with Tom and Daniel. They’d barely made it out of a collapsing Chinese tomb by the skin of their teeth.

“If he chooses to, Rupert can sit in the Great Hall and become our resident ice-cream man…once I bring him back to life.”

She focused her magic on the sizzling pot. She hadn’t needed a wand, or even a gesture, for over a year now. The ground trembled.

“_Impervius._”

* * *

The Room of Requirement was exploding with sound and fury, signifying that a seventh-year Gryffindor student was making sure her efforts wouldn’t amount to nothing.

Lily somersaulted through the air. Her sweat lashed out in a glittering arc as she landed on all fours, narrowly dodging the burst of spellfire from the Room’s foes.

_Alarte Ascendare_.

She caught a glimpse of her phoenix, Luke, as she flew up to meet the target dummy she’d launched into the air. It was disappointing, in a way – this was not how much power a normal rising charm ought to have. Mastering wandless magic had been tough. Wordless and wandless spells had almost broken her.

Yet here she was, alive and well, and she intended to make sure that the tragedy of her father and his best friend would never, ever happen again. Not while she could still breathe and do something about it.

The dummy slowed, reaching the zenith of its laborious arc almost twenty feet above the Room’s foam-mat floors. She could feel energy jumping at her fingertips, buzzing underneath her skin.

It wasn’t enough. Not yet.

_Reducto._

* * *

Daniel made his way to the podium. Normally he’d be nervous speaking in front of so many people, but there were too many other things roving his mind.

Generic Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor #26 was retiring due to a narrow mishap with the Giant Squid in the lake, and he’d be teaching jointly with Professor Snape next year. There were lessons to plan, routines to discuss, and students to terrorize.

He knew that Emma’s plan was coming to fruition too. For a while he’d tried to help, but every word she said went far about his head until he felt like he was drowning in parchment.

Daniel cleared his throat as the audience settled down. Filling Harry’s shoes had been monumentally difficult, but he finally felt like he had surpassed his former self. He was ready.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the UN council, thank you for listening to me today. You might be wondering why you’re being addressed by an actor who knows next to nothing about politics. Perhaps you’re thinking, ‘he doesn’t belong up there’. Well…you’d be absolutely right.”

He saw a few smiles, a soft scattering of amused laughter, and grinned in return.

“The truth is, what I’m about to say and do will change the way this world works forever. We’ve worked hard these past three years to do everything we can to prepare for this exact moment. On behalf of a community of hidden people, I am honored to be the first to approach the UN with a proposition to recognize a new nation. It’s a nation of problems, but also one with solutions.”

Now there was confusion, and requests for translators to do their jobs better.

“By the powers vested in me by the International Confederation of Wizards and Witches, I, Daniel Radcliffe, born Harry James Potter, hereby declare that momentarily, the International Statute of Secrecy will be no more.”

Confusion and laughter mixed. A lot of them thought he was joking. No matter.

“Let it be known for all of history to come that the first spell cast was not one of war, but of peace. Not of division, but of unity. Not of despair, but of hope. Hope that in the face of our worst impulses, we can join hands together to face the trials ahead.”

A few of them were frowning, a few gaping in disbelief as they began to wonder. Daniel waited for the translators to finish translating, for the clamoring voices to fall silent.

_This is for you, Rupert_.

He raised an open hand up to the ceiling of the great marble room. He thought of all his friends and precious people, but a redheaded idiot most of all.

“_Expecto Patronum!_”

* * *

**Hello there! Thank you all for coming on this short but wonderful journey. With this, Rupert Grint and the Tears of the Osiris comes to a close. The amount of support that I’ve received here, on my sub, and around the world has been staggering. Two separate translators from Vietnam have been working hard to deliver this story to the reddit Vietnam Facebook groups, and the enthusiasm there was humbling. **

**I thank you for reading, from the bottom of my heart.**


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